Hello Poetry
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A newspaper in hand, glasses on his nose, he sat on his big blue chair, with a carefree pose. A fire by his side, the commentator in his ear, he'd pause his daily routine, and change what's on his mind. He'd greet me with a big "Hello", in a deep country voice, lots of questions followed, all the while quietening Marty's gig. I saw him in bed that night, the mask of life around his mouth; this time I greeted him with a big "Hello", hoping he'd reply. His eyes remained closed, his hand in hers, the sound of the commentator unquiet, the newspaper at his bedside, untouched and exposed.
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
His Newspaper
A newspaper in hand, glasses on his nose, he sat on his big blue chair, with a carefree pose. A fire by his side, the commentator in his ear, he'd pause his daily routine, and change what's on his mind. He'd greet me with a big "Hello", in a deep country voice, lots of questions followed, all the while quietening Marty's gig. I saw him in bed that night, the mask of life around his mouth; this time I greeted him with a big "Hello", hoping he'd reply. His eyes remained closed, his hand in hers, the sound of the commentator unquiet, the newspaper at his bedside, untouched and exposed.
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
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